


negotiations

by sadsparties



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pillow Fights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:08:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23852074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadsparties/pseuds/sadsparties
Summary: The hit sends his ears ringing.
Relationships: Captain Francis Crozier/Commander James Fitzjames
Comments: 8
Kudos: 40
Collections: All Well: The Terror April 2020 Fest





	negotiations

**Author's Note:**

> i'm just putting this here bc i don't trust tumblr

The hit sends his ears ringing. 

Stunned and dazed, Francis Rawdon Moira Crozier, former captain of H.M.S. Terror, stares in silence as James Fitzjames hastily escapes from the room, with nothing but an echo of a laugh and a trail of down feathers in his wake.

With a grunt, Francis fastens his dressing gown and runs off to give James a bash in the head. He marks the stairs before swerving to James’s room, then dashes back out to where the main battlements will surely be. Neptune’s chew toy flies right past his head, prompting Francis to glare at the direction of the kitchen island serving as James’s fortress.

“Whatever you say, James”—another projectile is hurled at him, a dish rag? Lord, their housekeeper will have a fit—“I will not be forced to this dinner party.” 

A frustrated whine comes from behind the counter. “It is only one night, Francis!” James says. He sounds so much like Ross’s toddler that Francis cannot help but inwardly coo. “Yes, her daughter keeps making eyes at me, and is terrible in the clavier, and her nephew is as dour as you in your bad days, but Francis!” Francis sees the shadow of James’s arms gesticulating wildly. “She has a lovely drawing room, with paintings and figurines and no fewer than three leather settees transported all the way from Shanghai. Surely even you would—”

The resounding smack as Francis pounds James with his own bed pillow is music to Francis’s ears. He does not particularly care for the rest of James’s description of the De Bourgh’s drawing room, as his own squawking and pleading provided better entertainment. 

James holds his hands out for mercy, and when Francis concedes, he attempts to dash back upstairs for more ammunition. Francis catches his waist and hauls him bodily upon his shoulders, where James struggles until he is planted on his back by the hearth and his wrists are secured above his head. 

He looks lovely like this, hair pooling on the carpet. It takes all of Francis’s years of discipline to not ravish James then and there. 

Instead, he dips his head and presses a noisy kiss to the tip of James’s nose. “I will go with you to this ridiculous dinner party,” he says. James’s breath catches. “But we will be joined at the hip all the while and sit nowhere near the settees.” He kisses James’s eyelid, James’s brow. “And you will ignore Lady Catherine’s daughter and definitely ignore her nephew, whom, you have neglected to mention, also makes eyes at you, and then we will make our excuses and leave at exactly the tenth hour. Is that concession enough, my heart?”

James squirms beneath Francis’s thighs, his eyes half-lidded. “And then? After that?”

“And then…” Francis grins. He takes up James’s pillow and raises it above his head. “Then we will put our beddings to good use.”


End file.
